


Washe

by Washe



Category: 4 Corners Wrestling, 4CW
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Explicit Language, Face-Fucking, Felching, Infidelity, M/M, Oral Sex, Pre-Unstable Disband
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:45:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8055061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Washe/pseuds/Washe
Summary: Perry and Cashe have been fooling around for a whole month. Cashe wants to go a little further than dry humping. Perry lets him fuck his face.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters presented, nor have they participated in these events to the best of my knowledge.

It started with an argument. You know, those useless arguments about the job, and how to behave. A fuck Unstable here or there with a Judas thrown in between. Not that Cashe particularly cares for Unstable right now. These days, it seems like he has one foot out of the door. 

And one foot in between Wallace’s with his thigh pressed up against the guy’s crotch, hardening dick hidden by slacks. Cashe has him against the wall of the dude’s hotel. He’s mouthing at the older man’s neck and jaw and, okay.

Let’s fucking rewind for a second. Cashe is probably high as fuck. Or maybe that’s just an excuse to soften the blow of his banging on the hotel room door Wallace texted him. They play the same game all the time, basically. They fight, throw some harsh words around and then they’re clashing their teeth together and forgetting they have girlfriends; the two of them grinding against each other until they come in their pants. 

And, well, maybe that was too much of a rewind. Maybe if he rewinds enough, though, Cashe might be able to pinpoint exactly how this all started. He’s not overly concerned with it, though, if the way his hands travel down go squeeze Wallace’s ass.

“What the fuck, Cashe?” Wallace pants out in a huff. Cashe smirks and whispers into Wallace’s ear. “Come on, when are you going to let me fuck this fat ass. We’ve been doing this long enough.”

And. Well. That’s a rule breaker. They’re not supposed to talk about this, or how long they’ve been doing this or question the boundaries set and they don’t have a safe word or anything, but Cashe assumes it sounds an awful lot like, “Fuck off, faggot. I’m not going to let you do shit.”

Cashe bites down on Wallace’s neck as a response and Perry yelps; quickly pushing Cashe off of him. Cashe stumbles back in laughter as Wallace rubs at his neck. “What the fuck? No leaving marks. She’s going to see. You know what, fuck this. Get the fuck out of my room. I’ll hump my fucking pillow.”

Wallace is flailing around and Cashe is in tears with his laughter, but he understands the situation. Kaysie the Queen and her king coming around with his new hickey. Cashe doesn’t ask where she is now, he doesn’t dispute it because, fuck it, why would he? He’ll live and rub one out himself. However, when he turns toward the door, Wallace steps forward and grabs him by his shoulder. 

“Go fucking sit down,” and he doesn’t exactly say where, but Cashe sits on the bed anyway. He removes his shirt as well, but that doesn’t really need to be focused on. What can be focused on is Wallace getting to his knees in front of him and Cashe’s mouth, he would like to say, is not dry and he’s not looking at Wallace’s lips and fuck. Fucking fuck. 

“You’re such a little fucking kid,” Wallace complains before he mocks Cashe. “’We’ve been doing this for a whole month, when can we go all the way’ like a goddamn teenager.”

And Cashe wants to say that maybe Wallace shouldn’t say anything about kids when he unzips his shorts and pulls them down, but he’s at a loss for words when Wallace grabs his cock and starts pumping it. In this very room, a line was crossed, but Cashe isn’t about to retreat when Wallace licks his lips. 

“You, uh,” Cashe tries to say something funny. Anything fucking funny to make this into a joke, but what comes out instead is, “You gonna suck me off?”

The answer is yes, because Wallace wraps his lips around Cashe’s cock and sucks at the head lightly; getting it nice and wet before he takes more of Cashe in and right away, Cashe can tell Wallace has never sucked dick before. Which, okay; that’s a good thing, he guesses. Not that Cashe has sucked dick before, but. Listen, the point is Wallace isn’t doing that good of a job, but the more enthusiastic he gets, the sloppier the blowjob becomes. 

Cashe’s right hand is twisted in the sheets of the bed, and his left hand in the curly jew hair of Wallace. That’s not anti-Semitic; he’s enjoying the feel and when he pulls Wallace makes a noise that vibrates a bit around his cock and, wait, Cashe looks down just enough to see Wallace’s busy hands working himself over. And, well, that’s nice. 

He can’t help himself anymore; both hands go into Wallace hair as leverage for when Cashe begins thrusting into Perry’s mouth. Wallace doesn’t mind his mouth being fucked and relaxes just enough for Cashe to enjoy himself. Even when the older man gags, he doesn’t protest when Cashe just shoves his cock back into his mouth. 

Cashe has his eyes closed, trying to imagine someone else besides Wallace. Wallace, being that he has a dick in his mouth, is not afforded that luxury. Still, Cashe just can’t put a face to it. He opens his eyes and sees Wallace’s watered ones looking up at him and, shit. 

Cashe scrambles to a stand and nearly trips on account of his shorts locked around his ankles. He holds Wallace in place by his hair; pumping at his own cock feverishly. When Wallace opens his mouth, looking like a fucking slut, that’s when Cashe comes on the guy’s tongue and a bit on his face. Cashe pants and huffs as he gathers himself together; his eyes catching Wallace’s own hard cock. Cashe joins Wallace on his knees and brings him into a dirty kiss as he wraps his hand around his dick. 

He can taste the salt of himself on his mouth and it’s disgusting, but a moment is a moment and when Cashe speaks between their lips and says, “Come on, come on,” Wallace is finished and Cashe swallows up his moan; cum getting on his fist. 

Then, it’s over. They don’t say much when they collect themselves. They tuck back into their pants and Cashe lingers for a bit, feeling like he’s forgotten something. Lingering too much, though, apparently because Wallace barks an, “okay, you can go now, bitch,” from the bathroom where he’s washing his face and Cashe feels too out of place to argue, so he just does. 

It’s not until he’s exits the hotel that he realizes he doesn’t have his shirt.


	2. Chapter 2

There’s a lot that goes on between fucking your boss’s face one night, and then having three fingers knuckle deep in his asshole another night. Another night, sort of like this night. Okay, we’re talking about tonight and how Cashe is fingering Wallace’s asshole. 

This didn’t start off how, whatever this is, usually starts off. No arguments, no threats, no bitter and stabbing words; just this out of place planning through texts that found Cashe knocking on Wallace’s hotel room door with a plastic pharmacy bag hanging from a clenched and nervous fist. Purple lube, flavored lube, purple Root Beer flavored lube. 

“Fucking faggot,” Wallace said when he saw the lube Cashe got. He said that right before getting on all fours on the bed. Somehow, the lube is the least gay thing about the entire situation. Not that Cashe is gay, or that Wallace is either; no matter how breathy Wallace is getting. No matter how he whines when Cashe really gets into finger fucking his ass. 

Suddenly, Wallace yelps and moans deeply and Cashe looked on the internet enough to know that he’s found the guy’s prostate like a fucking doctor. He relaxes his motions and prods and rubs his fingers against the bundle of nerves. It makes Wallace moan like a whore, fucking back against his fingers and whining as his dick leaks. 

Wallace is panting when he finally slaps at Cashe’s hand. Cashe retracts his fingers as Wallace says something about his arms hurting from keeping himself up too long. He lies down on his back and spreads his legs. His body is flushed and eyes half lidded as he strokes himself lazily. 

“How about you stop wasting time and fuck me already?” Wallace breathes out. Cashe’s mouth dries, but he nods regardless. 

By the way, dude is bucket naked. If you’ve pictured him with clothes thus far, what the fuck? Cashe himself doesn’t have his shirt on, but does the guy even own clothes? Besides the jeans he’s taking off of course. Cashe takes the lube to stroke it on his dick. Honestly, missionary is not the way to go. It’s not that he doesn’t want to look Wallace in the eyes, it’s just. Actually, yeah, it’s totally for that reason. 

Cashe lines himself up despite his thoughts, however, with Wallace’s asshole before attempting to push in. Wallace was tender and raw from Cashe’s fingers, so it gave nearly no resistance as Cashe fully sheathed himself inside of the older man. Cashe places his arms on either side of Wallace’s head and gives an experimental grind, to be rewarded with a moan from Wallace who wraps his arms around Cashe’s neck. Wallace brings him down for a sloppy kiss. 

Cashe stuffs his tongue into Wallace’s mouth in response and begins thrusting with animalistic vigor. When Wallace pulls from the kiss, a string of profanities falls from his lips. His fists tangle with the sheet of the bed for leverage. This is some serious fucking people. They’re into it. So into it, Cashe pulls out just to flip Wallace over. He props that fat ass up to thrust back in. 

There are going to be some noise complaints from the neighboring rooms, especially when Cashe goes for the reach around. He needs Wallace to come first. All it takes is a few strokes and some angled prostate probing for Wallace to scream into his pillow and spill on the sheets. He tightens around Cashe’s length and Cashe is coming inside of him with a groan. He thrusts a few more times before he’s finally spent.

They’re both a sweaty fucking mess and they really shouldn’t talk to each other anymore after this. 

Every now and then, though, you’ll have an impulse and just go with it. Cashe’s impulse just happened to be pulling out and spreading Wallace’s ass cheeks until a bit of cum leaks out. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Wallace asks, half dead. Instead of answering, Cashe licks the trail in a stripe until he makes it to Wallace’s hole. From there he begins to nibble and suck at the guy’s ring of muscle; poking his tongue in. Getting every last trace of himself from him, he can taste the strange mixture of root beer and himself. If you guys aren’t getting this, he’s eating his own cum from Wallace’s asshole. 

When Cashe is content, he pulls away with a lick of his lips and pushes Wallace to the side, letting the guy tip over and finally rest in a heap on the bed. Wallace catches his breath and watches as Cashe gets his jeans on. 

“You don’t have to fuck me and go like I’m some whore, Cashe,” Wallace huffs. “You can fucking stay, you know.”

“Nah, I, uh,” Cashe shakes his head trying to get his thoughts together. “What about Kaysie?”

It’s not that he really wants to stay or anything, but he's just curious. Wallace waves him off. “Don’t fucking worry about it. If I say to stay, just stay. Shit. If she shows up, go out the window.”

Cashe doesn’t want to argue and his lips were already getting sticky. So, he just goes to the bathroom to wash his face. When he comes back out, Wallace is already asleep and snoring away. Cashe thinks for a moment on what to do, but just shrugs and chucks his pants back off before getting in bed with Wallace. 

Somewhere along the night, Cashe becomes the little spoon in the equation.


End file.
